


Beyond Here There Be Dragons

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Community: bsg_kink, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BSG-Kink, theme of "Oh No They Didn't: kink that is shocking or surprising, to either the characters or to ourselves. Prompt was Bill Laura, tying him up</p>
<p>Bill and Laura indulge in some edgy roleplay: She's the Pegasus Commander, dealing with learning her lover is a Cylon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Here There Be Dragons

“I’m not a cylon. I’m human.” His tone had gone from incredulous denial to quiet despair as time passed. Now it was a rote mutter, barely loud enough for Admiral Roslin to hear.   
  
“So you keep saying.”   
  
She moved toward him, casual threat in every jack-booted step. His knees shook with the strain of staying in the one position that didn’t hurt so much. She squatted down, eye to eye with him. He tried to focus on the auburn curls, deceptively soft and waving around her face. Her hair had smelled of vanilla and lilac—he could still remember burying his face in it, right before she woke up in their shared rack.  
  
How long ago had that been? Days? Longer?  
  
“Baltar’s test—“ he said, for the hundredth time, it felt like. Useless, but it was all he had. She stood up and walked behind him, testing the rope around his wrists with the toe of her boot.   
  
“Yes, Baltar’s test.” She chuckled, grinding rope into his abraded flesh. “Did you honestly think I’d let that civilian weasel have the final say in anything important?”  
  
She squatted again, behind him where he couldn’t see her. “Even if the pictures hadn't been enough, when I thought about it, I really had all the proof I needed. When you told me you ran from the fight, that you let President Cain tell you and your soldiers what to do, I knew.” She leaned against his naked back, breath warm on his skin. “I don’t blame her so much. A little more interrogation and she’ll get a clean end. A couple of seconds in the airlock…then it’ll be over. I’ll do the humane thing, for her. But you…” She scraped her nails down his back, opening his wounds again.   
  
His gaze fell on the doctored photos that had landed on the floor at the end of his first interrogation. Two of him, twin Bills, tampering with controls in the engine room. Skulking around one of the armories. Roslin had thrown them in his face right before she told the two officers to take him, any way they wanted.   
  
The next night, there were four. 

“Is it different when you come? I always thought you were a little…hotter, more intense, maybe, than you should have been.” She grabbed his cock, humming when it stiffened at her touch. “I should have gone down on you more. Maybe I would’ve tasted machine oil from the start, saved us both a lot of heartache.”  
  
He strained again at the rope binding his wrists, more from reflex than any hope of freeing himself. She’d started working him now, long easy strokes from the base of his cock to the tip, coaxing fluids from the gods knew where, slicking his length as he shuddered, knees aching on the ridged floor.   
  
“Look at you, Bill. Even now, even with this… _hideous_  reality, you still want to frak. Helpless, hopeless…and still so, so horny.” She laughed in his ear as he fought against his bonds, his inner primal self. “If you were human, could you do this? Could you come for me like this?” His climax began spooling up, and he closed his eyes and wondered if she was right.  
  
 _Come for me like this._  
  
Grey-green eyes met his and for a second he thought he could see the auburn curls she’d lost weeks ago. Bill looked down at his wrists, the thin cotton strip from an old shirt wrapping them snug, then looked at her again. A slight furrow marred the smooth skin of her forehead. Before she could ask, he said “apple,” almost barking their safe-word at her. Laura stopped stroking him immediately and began untying him.  
  
“Honey, are you—“ He stopped her question with a kiss, affirming that he was all right, he was just fine, proving it with his body as he gently, almost-but-not-quite-gingerly--not yet anyway—made love to her.   
  
Later, as he listened to her breathing ( _was it really getting shallower already, or was that his imagination?_ ), he tried to frame his reasons for never, ever trying this again.   
  
 _It took me to some dark places. I’m not comfortable with it._  That wasn’t a lie. He could say that, and mean it.  
  
 _It reminds me of all the things we can’t even try, makes me think how it’s impossible now to play at being rough and edgy with each other. And how selfish I am to even think that._  
  
He pulled her closer, brushing his lips over her smooth scalp. She’d enjoyed it, having him bound and at her mercy. She couldn’t have known where his guilty subspace thoughts would take him, make him want what he couldn’t have.  
  
 _Her.  
  
Healthy.   
  
Whole._  
  
And breaking him in a way so different from how she was breaking him now.   
  
 _I’m not a cylon. I’m human_ , he whispered, his excuse too quiet for Laura to hear. 


End file.
